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Irodescense
October 31, 2018
I'm transparent like a window.
But I'm prone to keeping curtains closed.
To cover up the nudity of;
My youthful and aching soul.
I used to be promiscous;
My essence on my sleeve.
A charming laugh ;
A crystal glass.
From which many a fool drew drink.
A choice of life:
Warm like cinamon wine.
Soft like the angels delight,
Behind by every eye.
But it never felt right.
I was a smoke off a fire.
Yet still smoldering There's no smoke without fire.
Although I tried to fan it cool.
The flames ran only wilder.
© Greg K., New Lenox, IL
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